Unlike my experiences in Kuwait (seeking the elusive Kuwaitis), I get to meet Iraqi people every day. In fact, all of our soldiers do — and a pretty good cross-section of their society at that.

In the morning as I drive to work , I can see Iraqis hard at work doing construction to rebuild their own national infrastructure here within the International Zone, as well as projects to support the U.S. military presence.  My experience has been that most of these laborers work pretty hard in jobs that most Americans would probably not put at the top of their list; I can only imagine what it would be like to do these strenuous jobs in summer when the temperatures are 130 degrees in the shade.

I also see Iraqis either zooming by in their military and non-military vehicles (they drive as “offensively” as I do), or driving very slowly on the sidelines trying to avoid the rest of us.  They are also standing guard at the entrances to Iraqi military and other strategic locations.  Today, as SFC Poulten and I were walking around the compound where we work, a group of younger Iraqi enlisted soldiers waved for us to come over and meet them.  We spent a few minutes “talking” — a combination of us practicing our very limited Iraqi Arabic skills and them practicing their very limited English skills, and both of us using hand gestures that we hoped had universal meaning.  We took a group picture with them (they had a camera, your Public Affairs soldiers did not).

Once I am inside my office building, I am surrounded by Iraqis — including janitorial staff, translators, members of Iraq’s fledgling media, senior members of the Iraqi civilian goverment and military, and the personal security details (i.e., big guys with guns) for those officials who unfortunately are sometimes targeted by other Iraqis (or maybe people from other countries) who don’t want them to succeed in rebuilding this nation. 

When I get a break at lunch or after I get back to Camp Prosperity at the end of the day, I meet merchants selling all kinds of things (some of my family and friends will be receiving these things for Christmas next year).   When I am out there shopping, I can tell this part of the world was a crossroads of trade routes:  these folks are very experienced in the art of the bargain.  For instance, I’ve learned that the first price I am told for an item is only a starting point.  In some ways, it seems that the back and forth negotiating is a way to get to know each other — the same way that Americans sometimes gossip back and forth.  My pocketbook says I need to work on this skill.

There are not many Iraqi children in the International Zone — at least not as far as I have seen.  I suppose most are kept inside by parents that have seen a lot of bad things happen to other children (or maybe even their own).  Occasionally, I will see one of two teenagers on streets where soldiers traverse.  They are peddling old (and now worthless) Saddam Hussein dinars or bootleg DVDs.  I am glad that they are making money this way rather than getting it from people paying them to take their own life in an attack on us.  Note to self — buy more bootleg DVDs tomorrow (sorry Hollywood).

Despite all the Iraqis I meet every day, I still somehow feel set apart.  Every day I hear our soldiers warning about accidently leaving our protective cocoon.  I’m glad they are aware of the limits of our protection, but I am concerned they might see everyone outside these limits as a potential enemy.  Hopefully sometime before the end of our year in Iraq, I’d like to be able to venture outside the walls of the International Zone that keep up from meeting more of this country’s people…and keeps us from meeting them. 

As one of our Army Reserve officer’s said last year in a television interview, “One of the good things that will come from all of this is that lots of Americans will get the chance to meet lots of Iraqis — and they will become friends.”